


Therapy

by inkysplots



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkysplots/pseuds/inkysplots
Summary: Just how much has the war affected Hermione? First person, AU, tiny drabble





	Therapy

"You want me to talk about the final battle?" I sit and try not to fidget in the chair. The room is dark and oppressive, forcing me to look at the therapist sat opposite me. My fingers start scratching the leather of the chair, I don't want to relive this. "It was hot, and busy and full of dust and blood. I watched friends die. I watched friends be tortured. Is that what you want to hear?"

He says nothing, doesn't even write notes on his pad, his hands completely still. Those eyes, they pierce right through me just like Dumbledore's used to, but there is no twinkle. My throat closes up as I try to swallow and look away.

"I watched my friends die. I saw Fred Weasley, the older brother I never had, I saw the life snuff out from his eyes. I had no time to grieve, I had to stay alive. But the deaths...they haunt me at night." I can feel my throat hurting from trying not to cry. I don't want to, this man, this stranger doesn't deserve to see my tears. He has no idea.

"How am I supposed to get over the death of a young man who was fighting for the freedom of his people? How am I supposed to be okay with the hundreds or thousands who died for our cause without seeing the result? Why should I ever get to feel fine with the deaths of those people on my conscience?!" I realise I've stood up and began shouting. Angry with myself, I turn and walk around the room trying to cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. Still he says nothing. This hurts much more than I thought it would. I'd spent months burying these emotions, these feelings. I don't want them brought up again now.

"Why don't we talk about Padma?" He suggests softly. His voice is barely a whisper, deliberately calculated to soothe the sharp edges of my mind. I turn to look at the back of his head and before I can stop them, images of that night come flooding back. Padma writhing in pain on the floor, Ballatrix cackling as she increased the curse. I snap myself out of it and move to sit, not sure if my legs will keep holding me upright.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't want to relive my friend getting tortured with the cruciatus curse," I bite out. Again with the staring. This guy would have given Albus a run for his money. I feel the tension sink out of my shoulders and look down to see I've been peeling the top layer of skin from my fingers. "Look... it was horrible. I felt so helpless. I was locked in a duel trying to protect other people...if I'd have saved her I would have died myself," The image of Padma barely breathing as the curse was lifted flashes through my head, I shake it away and try to focus on the dark room before me.

"I wanted to save her. But I saw Ginny with that glassy look in her eyes. She looked me dead in the face and I knew she was under that damn curse. I couldn't save Padma and Ginny, and Ginny is a powerful witch...she could do some serious damage. I was scared for her and for the people around her, this all should never have happened," My voice broke slightly as I felt my eyes welling up. I didn't care anymore, I just needed to be free from the nightmares of choosing to save Ginny over than Padma. I recalled looking around to see who was controlling Ginny and flying a stunner at them. I remember the relief I felt seeing Ginny come back to herself, and the horror as Padma's body finally gave into the curse.

It was all my fault.


End file.
